Friday, January 17, 2014

secundum verbum tuum


If you love the good thing vitally, enough to give up for it all that one must give up, then you must hate the cheap thing just as hard. There is such a thing as creative hate; a contempt that drives you through fire, makes you risk everything and lose everything, makes you a long sight better than you ever knew you could be. 
--Willa Cather 



We are strange creatures.
Our vision is essentially marred, neither glasses, contacts, nor any number of visits to the optometrist will correct it.
We are actors in a drama of which we only know a fraction of the story.
We set out each day to make choices: when will I wake up? Will I hit the snooze button? Will I hit the snooze button for the fifth time in a row?
What will I eat for breakfast?
How will I say good morning to my little sister?
What will I say when my roommate asks where the spatula is?
Will I call my sister today?
What will I do when I see an accident on the side of the road?
When I am frustrated with my brother, what will I say to him?
When I have to wake up for an unseemly early class, with how many salty and unladylike words will I pepper my sleep-deprived diatribe?

We make choices as frequently as we breathe.
But we don't often think of the effects that our choices have, because often we do not see them.
The product of our choices is really ourselves, and our character.
Our character is not some psychological concept that is set in stone.
But rather, a puzzle fitted together of all the choices we have made.
We are not taught to think that way.
Each day, we know not what we do.
When it comes to ourselves, we have rather aggressive hyperopia.
It is surprising to grasp the rather shocking reality that all of our choices--even the smallest, most insignificant, bring with them results.
Every action must have an equal and opposite reaction, quoth the laws of physics, which we stubbornly believe applies to every piece of matter in the universe except to ourselves. 
There is no choice we make that takes place in a vacuum.
There is no thought that we ever dream which remains private, unseen, affecting no one.
The workings of our imagination inside of our heads are some of the most powerful influences we encounter. Our thoughts, little synapses in our brain connecting, alter the physical chemistry of our brain, they somehow transform the make up of who we are.
Sometimes, our hyperopia is corrected, the blurred confusion recedes, and we see the effect of the choices we have wrought breaking through the cloudy sky, a piercing, hopeful patch of blue.
We feel the brunt of our choices.
We finally begin to grasp that, just like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, each minuscule action of ours will merit a reaction.
Each small choice you make is a shard of colored glass in the kaleidoscope.

God never tires of forgiving us; we are the ones who tire of seeking his mercy.
--Papa Francesco

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